Life of the Living
by Akagami'D
Summary: Shortly after Roger's death. Shanks is wandering around, lost, when he finds Silvers Rayleigh, who feels obligated to advise him. Rated for dark themes and the aftermath of cannon character death (Roger).


Title: Life of the Living

Characters: Silvers Rayleigh and Shanks. Mentions of Garp and Gol D. Roger

Pairings: None.

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece.

Setting: Shortly after Roger's death. Shanks is wandering around, lost, when he finds Silvers Rayleigh, who feels obligated to advise him.

Warning: Rayleigh isn't the Dark King for nothing. Please be aware of the angst.

* * *

It wasn't the first place Shanks had gone to, trying desperately to drown himself in rum, beer, whatever a bartender would place before a young pirate with nowhere to turn but the bottom of a bottle; he never intended it to be his last. It wasn't entirely his own decision to leave. But something, a nagging voice that sounded suspiciously like Captain Roger, inspired him to move, wisps of red waving back and forth in front of his eyes, blurring the sight of a sail bobbing up and down in the water at the end of the dock.

"How troublesome..." A voice muttered from underneath the sail. "Will that damned hat never leave me alone?"

"Master Rayleigh?" Shanks blinked, brown eyes focusing slowly. "Is that you?"

"Of course it's me," Rayleigh snapped, but his eyes raked over the former cabin-boy with concern. "Anyone else would see that hat and have you sent to the executioner."

Shanks blinked and tried to clear his mind enough to think of something witty to say, but he failed to summon energy.

"Come here, before you get yourself caught." Rayleigh ordered briskly, waving a hand about the small, plain vessel he was aboard.

Shanks didn't remember telling his feet to move, but somehow he found himself standing before the Dark King, Silvers Rayleigh, on a boat that would have looked small on a pond.

"Master Rayleigh..." Shanks started, but his voice failed and his cry came as more of a whimper. Rayleigh merely sighed.

"If there were a time and place for tears," He told the young man before him, "The death of a friend and Captain would certainly be it."

Heavy eyelids closed over brown eyes and Shanks felt each individual lash rest on the soft skin under the socket before a warm, salty liquid squeezed its way out, burning his face.

For several moments Shanks heard nothing but the sound of his blood pounding in his eyes as his fought back the sobs, but his heartache was too much for him to keep in for long and soon he heard his voice. It wasn't a howl of grief, but rather a strangled scream, and for all that he needed to release this wretched feeling of uselessness and despair, the pain only grew sharper until Captain Roger was dying before him again and again.

"The pain of losing someone close to you is something that never truly heals." Rayleigh told him softly when his wails turned to quieter sobbing.

"What am I supposed to do now?" Shanks asked, red eyes peering blanking at the former First-Mate. "What do I do now that the first person who ever gave a damn about me is dead?"

"I suppose I should say something like, 'Be happy—that's what he would have wanted,' or 'He's still alive as long as we remember him,' but Gol D. Roger is dead and gone. What you do with your life now is your business." Rayleigh said harshly, the light of his unsmoked cigarette casting odd shadows about his narrow face.

The last of Shanks' tears seemed to dry under Rayleigh's unexpected assault.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that life isn't always fair, nor is it happy." The older man sighed. "When your worst nightmares come true that doesn't mean you've made it through the worst life has to offer. There will be new nightmares, the next time you let your guard down enough to care for someone."

"I don't think I can ever care for anyone else." Shanks muttered, although both men knew it wasn't true. The redhead was a naturally kind and social spirit; he wouldn't survive long without someone to care about.

Rayleigh smiled darkly. "Ahh, but there's life's biggest injustice. If you don't move on with your life you will be forever trapped, the guilt and anguish tearing you apart until you die yourself."

"Maybe I want to die." Shanks muttered, "'least that way I'd be with the Captain."

"Idiot," Rayleigh smacked the young pirate up-side the head, "You can't just give up and die for those who are dead just as you can't live the rest of your life for them."

"Then what's the point of it all? What is the point in living, Master Rayleigh?" Shanks' eyes blazed with pain and anger.

"Live for those who are living." Rayleigh said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Go out, travel around the world, and meet new people." The older man instructed, suddenly calm.

"I don't understand."

"You will." Rayleigh smiled wryly at him. "But for now, just do as I say."

Shanks looked to his feet, but then nodded. "I'll try."

"That's not good enough."

"I'll do as you say, Master Rayleigh."

"Good. Now get off." The first-mate gave the former cabin boy a push towards the dock. "Wouldn't want Garp to catch us both here."

"Yes, Master Rayleigh." Shanks adjusted the ridiculous straw hat on his head and with a wave he was off.

"Damn kid." Rayleigh muttered to himself, grabbing a bottle of sake, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "Guess I'll have to stick around long enough to see what becomes of him, eh, Roger?"


End file.
